Stressed to Kill
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: 1987 series, my Exit the Fly verse. Krang has the others open a stress clinic and use a strange ray gun on the customers that abnormally relaxes them so they won't care if the world is conquered. Disaster strikes when three of the Turtles are among the victims.


**Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 1987**

 **Stressed to Kill**

 **By Lucky_Ladybug**

 **Notes: The characters are not mine and the story, although loosely based on the hilarious** _ **Darkwing Duck**_ **episode, is mine! Thanks to ThickerThanLove for some amusing plot tweak ideas involved Burne and April. This is part of my** _ **Exit the Fly**_ **verse. Baxter is human again and an ally of the Turtles. His brother Barney, from season 4's** _ **Raphael Knocks 'Em Dead**_ **, works for Shredder.**

Krang was in an extraordinarily good mood when he called everyone to the main control room of the Technodrome that day. His purple eyes gleamed as he held up a strange ray gun.

"I've finally completed it!" he gurgled.

"Wonderful, Krang," Shredder grunted. "What is it?"

"I call it the Relaxatron," Krang smiled. "Now, can anyone tell me what it's supposed to do?"

"It's your anger management project," Barney said. "It's supposed to relax people so much, their worries disappear."

"Yes!" Krang exclaimed. "With this gun, we can relax the entire population of New York City so that they won't object to our taking control!"

"Ingenius," said Shredder. "If it really works."

"It works," Krang growled. "And I know exactly how to apply it. I want all of you to go to the surface and open a stress clinic. Whenever anyone comes in feeling tired and oppressed, you blast them with the Relaxatron and leave them feeling all happy and carefree!"

"So we'll actually be doin' them a favor," said Bebop.

"In a way," Krang smirked. "Of course, they'll be relaxed so much that they can't really function. We'll have the most accepting subjects in the history of tyranny!"

"That's a great plan, Krang," Rocksteady grinned.

"I know." Krang looked to Barney. "I want you to run the clinic."

"Me?!" Barney cried.

"You're a doctor, aren't you?" Krang looked at him with one closed eye.

"I have a doctorate," Barney said, "but not for that. I'm a scientist! I am not licensed to practice any of the healing arts."

"So what?" Krang waved an arm. "Who'll know? Soon they'll all be too relaxed to care!"

"Do you know what I could get for practicing without a license?" Barney frowned.

Krang rolled his eyes. "It seems like you worry a great deal about what kind of legal charges could be brought against you these days."

"It's not that," Barney said haughtily. "It's just that there are some lines I'm not comfortable crossing."

"You'll deal with it," Krang said calmly. "Just like you dealt with the attempted abduction of Princess Tribble."

Shredder narrowed his eyes. "I still wonder about that," he said. "You didn't want to do it. Then, mysteriously, someone operating a computer started making things go wrong for us."

"My brother confessed to that," Barney said, his voice dripping with boredom.

"Convenient, wasn't it?" Shredder retorted. "That he was right there to take the rap. Almost as though he was trying to protect you."

"Do you think he'd have the courage for that?" Barney still looked unimpressed.

"In the past? No, probably not. But your pathetic twin isn't the same meek little mouse he was before." Shredder's hands went to his hips. "I see no reason for him to confess if he really did do it. It's far more likely that he would confess as a cover-up."

"You just admitted he isn't so meek anymore," Barney pointed out. "He saw you were blaming me and he was afraid for my safety, so he decided to confess to his crime."

"Or he decided to confess to yours." Shredder scowled. "I didn't see that he had any kind of a computer with him. You, however, did. You had just finished building that state-of-the-art laptop of yours."

"Baxter has a Smartphone," Barney said. "He's skilled enough with technology that he could easily use it to do what he was doing to you, Bebop, and Rocksteady. And he was."

"Enough of this!" Krang spat. "Baxter confessed and that's good enough for me. Now get ready and go to the surface!"

Barney turned to leave. "I'll get my laptop."

As before, he lingered just outside of the room for a couple of minutes to hear what the conversation was once he was gone.

"I don't trust him, Krang," Shredder growled. "Something just isn't right."

"Oh, and I suppose you think _he_ was the one sabotaging your efforts to get Princess Tribble?" Krang said in irritation.

"I'd believe that easier than I'd believe Baxter did it," Shredder insisted. "Baxter had his hands full with that brat. He wasn't free to use a computer _or_ a Smartphone!"

"He was free to drive his car," said Krang. "He probably had one of the girls take her when he turned your life upsidedown."

"I know that sounds logical, but I still don't believe it," Shredder frowned. "It's not Baxter's style."

"And of course you'd know." Krang sounded more bored than ever. "You just barely admitted that he's not how he was when he slaved for you."

"He's not," Shredder said. "Oh, nevermind. You just like Barney's obnoxious behavior so much that you're not willing to see what might be the truth."

"Alright, Shredder," Krang said at last. "I'll give you a chance to prove your point. Barney doesn't want this assignment. Observe him closely and see how he handles it."

"With pleasure," Shredder growled. "You'll see, Krang."

"Maybe," said Krang. "The question is, what will I see? Maybe just that you're jealous."

Shredder shook his fists at the ceiling. "Why does everyone keep saying that?!"

"Oh, someone other than me has said it?" Krang blinked. "Then maybe you'd better take greater stock in it!"

"Not when the other ones saying it were Bebop and Rocksteady," Shredder retorted.

"Hey!" Rocksteady exclaimed.

"That's really mean," said Bebop.

"Shut up, you idiots!" Shredder screamed. "Look at this, Krang! Barney's a bad influence on our mutants! They idolize him so much that they're starting to rebel too!"

"Interesting," Krang smirked. "Maybe it will make them more efficient."

"Oh!" Shredder cried in disgust.

Barney smirked too as he turned away. But deep down he was concerned. He hurried back to his laboratory.

"What's going on, Barney?" Vincent asked when he entered.

"We have a new assignment." Barney lifted the purple laptop and headed for the door. After he had stayed to listen at the control room door, there was no time to dawdle in getting back.

"You sound grudging."

"I don't want this assignment," Barney admitted. "Krang wants me to impersonate a medical doctor or a psychiatrist or some such thing. And he's assigned Shredder to watch and see how I handle it."

"So Krang doesn't really believe in you as much as it seemed."

"I think he only agreed because he wants to prove Shredder wrong." Barney lingered at the door, hesitant to leave while they were still talking. He certainly didn't want this conversation overheard. "And now I'll be in trouble if I don't do exactly as he says. Or appear to."

"How can you only appear to?" Vincent sounded both doubtful and worried.

"It won't be easy," Barney sighed. "I probably can't, not fully. But maybe with your help we can pull something off."

"I told you there would be other assignments you wouldn't like."

"I know."

"Barney, this is so dangerous! No matter what you do now, you're in trouble."

"I _know,_ " Barney snapped. "But we're going to have to make the best of it. There's nothing else that can be done."

Vincent fell silent. "I just don't want to lose you," he said then. "I already almost did, Buddy."

"You won't lose me," Barney insisted. "I have no intention of dying."

"You've changed since the incident with the Golden Goose," Vincent said. "You were obsessed with proving yourself to Krang and Shredder on that case, but ever since then, you've just seemed so tired of it all."

"That's because I am," Barney muttered.

"You pushed yourself on that case and you did things that are still badly haunting you today."

"And I found both that I regretted being one of the bad guys and that I had fully proved I was one of them," Barney said with impatience. "What's your point?"

"Well, my old point was that you really don't want to be here any more and you need to find a way to get out. My new point is that since you regret what you've done, you can't have fully proved you belong with Shredder and Krang. Even Bebop and Rocksteady do what they do with relish."

"I used to," Barney sighed. "Everything has been so complicated ever since Baxter came back into my life."

"You tried to convince yourself that you were okay with whatever Shredder wanted from you. But the instant you actually tried to go through with your threats, you realized you weren't okay with it at all. That would have happened regardless of Baxter. Don't blame this on him."

"I wasn't, really," Barney frowned. "It's just that he was the one I was doing it to."

"You would have felt the same if it had been someone else. Look how turning Michelangelo to gold has affected you."

Barney's eyes flashed. "I wish Baxter's words really were the truth," he spat. "I wish there was a chance for me. But I know better. I've dug myself right into Hell and that's where I have to stay."

 _"Barney!"_ Shredder suddenly roared outside the door. "It's taking longer and longer for you to come each time!"

"I'm coming right now," Barney called back. He closed the laptop lid and stepped into the corridor, where he looked coolly at Shredder but didn't speak further. He simply brushed past him and headed back for the main control room. Shredder clomped angrily behind him.

 _And now,_ Barney thought grimly, _for one more step on the staircase into Hell._

xxxx

Irma leaned back in the passenger seat of Baxter's station wagon and sighed. It had definitely been one of _those_ mornings. She had woke up late, had no time for breakfast beyond a package of Twinkies, and her hair was still wet from her morning shower. It flopped against her neck, chilling her in the winter temperatures. Baxter was fiddling with the heat and glowering at it.

"I don't know why, but I can never seem to get anything but cool air to come out of this thing unless I turn it on full-blast," he said.

"That's alright, Dr. Stockman," Irma said. "I'm sure I'll be fine. It's not the first time I've had to run to work without blow-drying my hair. I'm just glad you were still here so I could catch a ride with you."

Finally Baxter got warm air to come out of the vents. He leaned back with a stiff nod of approval and turned his attention to pulling out of the parking lot. "You just barely caught me in time," he said.

"Well, thanks," Irma smiled. "I'd be late if I had to send for a cab."

Conversation was mostly sparse on the drive; they weren't close and neither could quite think of what to say. Irma idly looked out the window, watching the businesses passing by as they drew closer to Channel 6.

"Hey, there's a new stress clinic over there," she mused. "I don't remember that there yesterday."

Baxter looked over and raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't. That was a vacant building yesterday. It's been vacant for months."

"I guess someone hurried and snapped it up," Irma shrugged.

Baxter grunted. That was probably true, but the whole matter reminded him far too much of how Shredder slipped into places over and over again. Part of him wondered if this was a new "conquer the world" scheme. The other part couldn't quite figure out what a stress clinic would have to do with conquering the world.

Then they arrived at Channel 6 and all such thoughts fled from his mind. Burne Thompson was in an especially ill mood that morning. He stormed and stomped and flailed about, pumping his fists to the ceiling as he ranted and raved and roared.

"Channel 6 is falling behind in the ratings again!" he boomed. "We have to come up with a new gimmick to get back on top!"

"I thought my story on the giant bugs was pretty good, Chief," April said.

"Sure it was! That brought us our best ratings of that week!" Burne's eyes flashed. "But now a new week's starting and we need something new, something fresh!"

"I'm sure we'll find something," April said.

"You'd better! . . . What's this?!" Burne stopped to stare at a news feed that was coming in. "'Channel 9 Predicts the End of Rival Channel 6'?!" He grabbed it in a mix of horror and rage. "Those morons don't know what they're talking about! If they knew how to run a news station, they wouldn't always be below _us_ in the ratings!"

"Chief, you've got to calm down," April exclaimed. "Your blood pressure must be going through the roof!"

"So what, if our ratings do too?!" Burne wailed.

"Gee, Mr. Thompson, you really do need to calm down," Irma said. "Hey, I've got an idea! Why don't you visit this new stress clinic I saw on the way to work?"

"A stress clinic?!" Burne turned to look at her with sharp and flashing eyes. "You think I need to visit a stress clinic?!" He jumped up and down on the floor. "I am _not_ stressed!"

"Actually, that sounds like a good idea," April said. "If you're calmer, you'll be able to think more clearly on what to do for the station."

Burne paused and blinked. "You really think so?"

"Sure!" Irma chimed in. "And it'll help productivity."

"Hmm." Burne rubbed his chin. "Well, maybe you're right. It's a new place, you say?"

"That's right!" Irma nodded. "It just opened today."

"And it was vacant yesterday," Baxter put in.

"Yeah? That could be a big scoop." Burne slammed his fist into his palm. "Okay! We'll all go to the stress clinic!"

"All of us?" Irma blinked.

"Let's see how good they are at what they do. And if there is a story in their opening so quick, we'll be the ones to get it!" Burne looked around. "Where's Vernon?"

"He probably won't be in today, Chief," April said. "Remember, he was visiting his sister and nephew over the weekend. He didn't think he'd be back until late today."

Burne waved a dismissive hand. "Nevermind then! Irma can operate the camera!"

"I can?" Irma stared.

"Sure, why not? You've done it before! You'll film, April will report, Dr. Stockman will examine everything from a scientific viewpoint, and I'll try it out!" Burne headed for the door. "It'll be great!"

"Well, okay." Irma hurried after him. "Let's go, April!"

April shook her head. "I'm coming, Irma." She looked to Baxter, who was lingering behind. "You seem kind of worried, Dr. Stockman."

Baxter sighed. "I suppose it's nothing and I'm just paranoid. I just wonder why there's suddenly a stress clinic today that wasn't there yesterday."

"It _does_ sound like Shredder, doesn't it," April mused.

Baxter nodded. "They could have teleported in with enough equipment from the Technodrome to make up a believable stress clinic for as long as they want to use it."

"Just in case, I'll call the Turtles," April decided. She pulled out her Turtle-Comm and flipped it open.

"Hi, April. What's up?" Leonardo greeted.

"Hey, Leonardo. We're all going to check out this new stress clinic that opened up somewhere near Channel 6," April told him. "It might be a Shredder plot, so stand by in case we need you, okay?"

"Okay," Leonardo blinked. "I wonder what Shredder would want with a stress clinic."

"So do we!" April said.

"April! Dr. Stockman!" Burne yelled from the elevators. "Let's get going!"

"Ooops! Gotta go." April hung up the Turtle-Comm and looked to Baxter. "Are you ready?"

"It looks as though I'll have to be, doesn't it," Baxter said.

April smirked. "We both will." She started to walk towards the elevators. "Maybe we'll get lucky and it will just be a nice, normal stress clinic after all."

Baxter hurried after her. "We can hope."

xxxx

The S and K Stress Clinic actually looked quite impressive from the inside. Calming white furniture, wallpaper, and soft music filled the reception room. Irma captured it all on her camera, looking impressed. "This place is great," she exclaimed.

"Oh, we're so glad you think so," came an eerily familiar voice. Two hulking attendants emerged from the back room, each wearing a mask over the bottom half of his face. "Are you here to try out one of our special methods for reducing stress?"

"I am," Burne said, stepping forward. "Burne Thompson, with Channel 6 News. Is it alright if my crew does a story on your establishment while I'm being treated?"

"Certainly," said the second attendant. "Come right this way and the doctor will see you now."

Baxter regarded both of them with suspicion. "I'm sure those are Rocksteady and Bebop," he hissed to April.

"I'm afraid you're right," April gulped. Again she lingered behind to pull out the Turtle-Comm. "Guys, I think we've got trouble!" she whispered.

"It really is a Shredder scheme?" Leonardo exclaimed.

"I think so! Rocksteady and Bebop seem to be the attendants!" Quickly April gave him the address. "I've gotta go." She hung up, hastening after the rest of the crew.

The doctor in the back room was dressed as a surgeon, right down to the mask over the lower half of his face. He tensed as the group entered. "Welcome," he greeted in what sounded like a deliberately muffled voice.

Burne looked at him and back at the attendants. "You people really go all-out, don't you?" He plopped in the reclining dentist's chair without being asked. "You worried about passing along germs or something?"

"No; we just want to help you feel completely relaxed," said the doctor.

"Yeah!" said one of the attendants. "A lot of people worry about germs, after all."

"And what is the secret of your success with reducing stress?" April nervously asked. She could see the doctor was short, around Baxter's height and weight, and he had pulled his wild red hair into a ponytail.

"It's a very new type of technology," he answered. "We call it the Relaxatron."

"The Relaxa-what?" Burne stared at him. "It sounds like something out of a sci-fi movie."

"You're not that far off the mark." The doctor pulled out a bizarre ray gun. "That's exactly what this is. But it _will_ relax you, I can promise you that."

Baxter ran forward, not willing to let this go on any longer. "Stop it, Barney!" he screamed. "I know it's you!"

The doctor glowered at him and blasted Burne with the ray gun without warning. Then he whirled, also blasting April and Irma. They both cried out and dropped to the floor.

The attendants grabbed Baxter's arms, sneering behind their masks as they held him fast. "You're just too smart for your own good, ain't you?" said the one that was clearly Bebop.

Baxter struggled against them. "What is that thing, Barney?" he demanded. "What are you doing to these people?!"

"I'm relaxing them," the doctor replied. Finding no further need for the disguise, he tore it off. "Look."

Burne was grinning goofily, twirling his finger as he gazed up at the ceiling. "One, two, three . . . I'm gonna count all the little holes in the tiles. Four, five . . ."

Shocked, Baxter turned to look at April and Irma. They were slowly sitting up, both looking confused.

"What am I doing with this camera?" Irma held it up. "Oh, I remember. I was filming this lovely place. I think I'll film some more."

"And I was reporting," April said. "But I don't want to do that now. I just want to relax." She yawned and stretched and leaned back against the wall.

"You've melted their minds!" Baxter said in horror.

"They're fine," Barney said with impatience. "They're just overly relaxed." He held the gun up and pointed it at Baxter. "And you're going to join them."

Again Baxter fought against Bebop and Rocksteady, but in vain. He could only stare helplessly at his brother. "Barney, don't do this," he pleaded.

"Why not?" Barney retorted. "Because I'm still good?" He reached to pull the trigger, but only Baxter saw him make a slight adjustment of a knob before he did. Then the strange rays overtook Baxter's mind and he fell limp in his captors' arms.

"Now we got them all!" Rocksteady crowed.

"Put my brother in the storeroom," Barney directed. "It's getting crowded in here."

"Okay, Barney." Bebop went and opened the door into a third room. Rocksteady threw Baxter in and shut the door.

Barney cringed. "You didn't have to be rough with him," he scolded. "Baxter tried hard to save my life on that mountain. I owe him better than that."

"Oh. Sorry," said Rocksteady.

"He won't mind," said Bebop. "Not now that he's so relaxed."

"That's what you think!" came Leonardo's voice from the outer room.

"Oh no!" Bebop cried. "It's the Turtles!"

"That's right," Raphael called in a sing-song voice. They all approached the inner room with weapons bared.

"What have you done with our friends?" Leonardo cried.

"Oh, we fixed 'em up real good," Bebop sneered. "Look at how relaxed they are!"

"89, 90 . . ." Burne counted.

Irma continued to film, humming to herself.

"What a beautiful day," April said lazily.

"I don't believe it," Raphael gawked. "You melted their minds!"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?!" Barney shrieked. "Take this, Turtles!" He pointed the ray gun at them, again turning the knob before pulling the trigger. Only Raphael managed to dive out of the way as the other three were hit.

"What's happening?!" Leonardo cried.

"Are our minds really gonna be melted?!" Michelangelo gasped.

"I think we're just . . . going to relax. . . ." Donatello fell backwards, a loopy smile coming over his features. "Wow. You know, this actually feels good."

"Righteous, Dude," Michelangelo grinned. "Who'd have thought that one of Barney's plans could actually work out gnarly?"

"I feel like going outside and making a Japanese rock garden," Leonardo said, stumbling backwards and gazing at the ceiling. "Or maybe I'll join Burne in counting all those little holes."

Raphael stared at them in horror from the floor. "Oh no!" he hissed. "We're supposed to foil the bad guys, not flatter them! Now we're not the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They're the Teenage Mutant Hippie Turtles. I'm the only ninja left!"

His mind raced. He had to make a decision now. He wanted to charge them all out of outrage. But they would just use the gun on him as well. He could easily take out Barney, but Bebop and Rocksteady were there too. And Shredder could be lurking in the shadows. Those were not good odds.

What he really needed now was Splinter's advice. So, forcing himself to use his better judgment, he pushed up an old window and quietly leaped outside.

"Wait a minute," he frowned to himself. "I didn't see Baxter in there. And I know he was going too; Burne was calling for him when they were leaving to come here."

He looked around. Could Baxter have also escaped? No one seemed to be present, but maybe he was already off the premises. Raphael ran around the back of the building. "Baxter?" he called, trying to keep his voice down. "Yoohoo! Did you get away from your crazy brother?"

The rattling of a door at the back of the building startled him. He hurried over, listening for a moment before deciding to take a chance. "I hope that's you, Baxter." He pulled off the lock with his sai. The door opened and a frazzled Baxter stumbled out. "What the heck were you doing in there?!"

"Rocksteady threw me in there," Baxter mumbled. He shut the door. "What was happening in the building? It sounded like you and the other Turtles were attacking."

"We were, and then _we_ got attacked! Your brother turned the others' minds to mush!" Raphael's eyes flashed. He paused, staring at Baxter. "You don't sound all wacko like everybody else in there."

"Barney pretended to use the Relaxatron on me," Baxter said. "But he turned the dial down. It only stunned me."

"Well, he sure didn't just stun the other Turtles!" Raphael snapped. "They're all in La-La Land and so are April, Irma, and Burne!"

Baxter rubbed the back of his neck while giving Raphael a worried look. "What are we going to do?"

"I was thinking of going back to the Turtle Van and calling Master Splinter," Raphael said.

"That's a good idea," Baxter said. "Let's do it."

Together they sneaked around the other side of the building and headed for the Van. But they stopped short in disbelief when they saw the other three Turtles casually strolling out and climbing in.

"Where are we going, Leonardo?" Michelangelo asked.

"I thought we'd take a leisurely drive through this beautiful city," Leonardo answered.

"Sounds great to me," said Donatello.

Raphael slapped his forehead. "Oh brother!"

"I seriously doubt any of them are in any condition to drive right now," Baxter exclaimed.

Raphael started. "You're right." He ran for the Van and climbed in through the back. "Hey! Wait up, guys!"

Michelangelo turned to look. "Like, you're just in time, Raphael. We're gonna have a mondo relaxing day."

"You'll probably drive so slow a snail could beat you," Raphael retorted. "Let me take over."

"That's fine with me," Leonardo said. "Now I'll be able to focus on the scenery."

Raphael rolled his eyes. "What scenery? Dirty old buildings and angry citizens?" He climbed over the seat and dropped into the driver's position.

"Sounds great to me," said Leonardo. "Home sweet home."

Baxter held back, not sure whether to go with them or stay there. He didn't dare return to the clinic, but he didn't like to just leave the Channel 6 people in there.

That dilemma was solved when Burne led April and Irma outside to the news van. "Let's all go back to the station," he was saying. "We can sit around and watch our ratings drop." He giggled.

"Sounds like fun," said Irma.

"Yeah. Much better than breaking my neck on a big scoop," said April.

Baxter shook his head. "Oh Barney," he whispered in sad exasperation. Then, sighing, he hurried over to them. "I'll drive you back."

"Oh good," said Burne. "I was wondering where you went off to."

"You were?" Baxter said warily. He climbed into the driver's seat.

"But not too much," Burne continued. "I really just wanted to relax." He and the girls got in as well.

Baxter sighed. "Of course." He started the engine and drove off, passing Raphael in the Turtle Van as they went. Raphael glanced over, looking relieved that Baxter had collected the Channel 6 crew, and then turned the corner.

xxxx

Splinter stared, appalled, as the Turtles dazedly swayed back into the Lair, followed by a sullen Raphael.

"Hi, Master Splinter," Leonardo greeted with a wave.

"Yeah. Peace!" Michelangelo made the Peace sign by folding in his thumb.

"It's so good to be home," said Donatello. "We can just lie around all day and do nothing."

"Aww, come on!" said Raphael. "What about figuring out what that wacko power source from the Floxy Theatre is all about?"

"Too much work." Donatello flopped in a chair. "I just want to relax."

"And Michelangelo, you had a bunch of new pizza recipes you were going to make," Raphael continued, growing more desperate.

"I'd sure like to eat pizzas," Michelangelo drawled. "But I'm like, way too relaxed to think about making them!"

"And Leonardo, what about your ninja practice?!" Raphael half-pleaded.

"Ninja practice?" Leonardo retorted. "Are you serious? That's way too stressful. I'd rather sit and watch TV all day."

"Great!" said Raphael. "I'll get out the new _Gorgonzola_ movie."

"What? _Gorgonzola_?" Leonardo stared at him and reached for the remote. "I was thinking more like this great series on PBS all about flowers and plants. Today they're showing a rerun from October about how to place them all around your home and yard for autumn decorating."

Raphael slapped his forehead.

"Raphael, what is the meaning of this?!" Splinter demanded. "What has happened to your brother turtles?!"

"Barney Stockman happened to them," Raphael spat. "Yeah, Baxter's precious twin that Baxter still wants to save! Barney thinks he's irredeemable. Well, I think he's right!"

"Explain from the beginning," Splinter said sternly.

Raphael did. Splinter listened, growing more grim as the tale wove on.

"So the other three turtles and most of the Channel 6 crew were hit by this strange ray gun that causes them to abnormally relax," Splinter summarized at the conclusion. "There must be a way to throw the gun in reverse."

"Yeah, probably," Raphael agreed. "But these guys are in no condition to fight and I figured I'd only get zapped myself if I tried to attack right then."

"A wise decision, my student," said Splinter. "However, we must go back and try to surprise them in order to retrieve the gun."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Raphael exclaimed. "But what are we gonna do with the Teenage Mutant Hippie Turtles?!"

"Hmm." Splinter eyed them thoughtfully. "We could simply leave them here and trust that they will stay here. But it seems that whenever that action is taken, it causes more trouble in the end. We had better take them with us."

Raphael sighed. "Hoo boy. Let's just hope they chill out in the Van and are cool with whatever we do."

Michelangelo twirled his finger around as he started to sing. _"It's a small world, after all . . ."_

Raphael clapped his hands over his ears. "And that I won't do something I'll regret later."

xxxx

Vernon was more than a little confused when he walked into Channel 6 that afternoon and observed the utter nonsense. Burne was leaning back in his office chair, throwing a paper airplane. The floor was littered with more. Irma was sitting at her computer, her hands clasped on her chest as she watched the screen saver. And April had taken Vernon's DVD on how to procrastinate and was looking out the window as per the instructions.

"What on Earth is going on in here?!" Vernon cried, stopping in the middle of the floor and spreading his hands wide.

"Oh hi, Vernon," Irma said sleepily. The phone rang and she picked it up. "Hello, Channel 6. . . . You do? Okay, that's completely fine. I wasn't really up for it anyway." And she hung up.

"What was that?" Vernon frowned.

"My date for tonight," Irma told him. "He had to cancel."

"And you're taking it so calmly?!" Vernon gawked. "The last time a date cancelled on you, you used an entire box of tissues crying about it!"

Irma shrugged. "I'm way too chill for that now, man."

Vernon's jaw dropped. "Chill?! You must be burning with fever!" He ran over, placing his hand on her forehead. ". . . You don't feel feverish," he blinked in surprise.

"Of course not, silly." Irma stretched and looked back to the computer screen. "I'm just having a blast watching these fascinating pictures."

Vernon looked at the computer screen too. "You'd rather watch twisting designs than go on a date?!"

"Vernon, would you keep it down out there?" April yawned. "I'm in the middle of your DVD about procrastinating."

Vernon straightened. "You went into my office and _took_ my DVD?!" he said in indignation. Then the rest of her words processed. ". . . And you're _watching_ it?!"

"Sure," said April. "It's actually pretty interesting. And definitely relaxing. It's no wonder you like it so much."

Vernon looked to Burne's open office door. "Mr. Thompson! Why aren't you doing something about this?! Your star reporter and your receptionist are completely shirking their duties!"

"So what?" Burne replied. A paper airplane sailed past Vernon's nose. "Send that back in here, would you?"

"Oh, sure, Chief . . ." But then Vernon paused, really staring at what had just landed at his feet. Instead of doing anything with it, he leaped over it and ran down the hall in terror. "I've landed in the Twilight Zone!" he yelped.

Baxter's office door opened. "Would you keep it down out here?!" he exclaimed.

Vernon jumped a mile. "Everyone's gone mad! Completely stark-raving mad!"

Baxter cringed. "I know. Come in here and try to be quiet."

Vernon paused, frowning as he regarded Baxter in suspicion. "You're not low-strung like all the rest of them?"

"No, I'm not," Baxter insisted. "I'm trying to think of how to help them."

"Oh, thank goodness." Vernon scurried into Baxter's office and shut the door. "What's wrong with them?!"

"They were hit by a ray gun that relaxed them abnormally," Baxter explained. "Three of the Turtles were also affected." He walked over to his desk, where he had spread out a conglomeration of assorted parts and pieces. "I'm trying to build something that will have the opposite effect and turn them back to normal."

"Can you do that?" Vernon looked wary. "At least, any time soon?"

"I think so. But if you're going to stay in here, I'll need you to be quiet." Baxter sat down and looked over the pieces. After a moment he selected one and screwed it in to the base.

Vernon sat in a chair and gripped the knees of his pants. Within moments he shifted, squirming in the chair. Then he ran a hand through his hair and nervously coughed.

Baxter looked up in exasperation. "Mr. Fenwick, I can't concentrate. Maybe you'd better go to your own office."

Vernon hopped up. "Maybe I will," he said. "Or better yet, maybe I'll go home! Come get me when everyone's acting normal again!" He ran out of the office. But instead of going home, Baxter heard his office door slam moments later.

Baxter sighed to himself. It would take a lot for Vernon to really be there for the others as a friend or even as just a decent coworker. But the fact that he was staying gave Baxter some hope.

He looked back down at the half-finished invention on his desk. "You turned everything upsidedown, Barney," he muttered under his breath. "But now I'm going to fix it."

xxxx

Bebop and Rocksteady were bored. More people had trickled in throughout the day, but overall, they weren't reaching the enormous numbers of the population that Krang had hoped for. By now the day had dragged on and things were practically at a standstill.

"Isn't there anything to do around here?!" Rocksteady whined.

"I brought my video game," Bebop announced, holding it up.

"Well, that's just great for you, but what about me?!" Rocksteady scowled.

"We can take turns," Bebop said. "I'll go first." He turned it on and started to guide the video game character through the level. Snorting in frustration, Rocksteady propped himself up on his elbows and watched. Above them, the lights flickered dangerously.

"Maybe you shouldn't have plugged it into the electricity," Rocksteady worried. "The boss thought there was only enough power to use on our basic operations."

"It's fine," Bebop retorted. "It's just a little game. What harm could it do?"

The lights flickered more. As Bebop's level advanced, they sparked and sizzled.

Barney ran out from the back room. "What are you doing, you fools?!" he cried.

"Just playin'," Bebop said defensively. "There's nothin' else to do around here."

"Well, you'll have to stop it," Barney ordered. "We can't risk . . ." But he trailed off as one of the sparks caught the wall and it went up in flames. Horrified, he dashed back into the other room.

Rocksteady leaped to his feet. "The place is on fire! Let's get out of here!"

Bebop yanked out the plug and stood. "Maybe we can get a fire extinguisher or somethin'," he suggested.

"There's not a fire extinguisher in here!" Rocksteady retorted. "Nobody's been in here for ages before we came along!"

"We should have brought one with us," said Bebop. "You know how they say Safety First."

"Well, it's too late for that now!" Rocksteady yelped.

By now the flames were covering almost all the walls of the outer room. Bebop gulped, staring at the sight in alarm. "Then you're right," he said. "We had better get out of here."

Together they ran for the door.

In the back room, Barney scooped up Vincent and dove for the nearest window.

"What about Krang's Relaxatron?!" Vincent exclaimed.

"I couldn't care less about his Relaxatron," Barney snarled. "I never wanted to do this idiotic scheme in the first place!" He leaped out the window, landing on a small patch of grass on the lot.

"Well," said Vincent, as the flames swallowed the back room, "I guess you only had time to rescue one thing anyway."

"Exactly." Barney stumbled up and limped around to the front of the building.

Shredder was just arriving with cartons of take-out from a restaurant down the street. All he could do was stop and stare at the calamity. "What's happening here?!" he roared.

"They did it," Barney snapped, indicating Bebop and Rocksteady. "They overloaded the circuits."

Shredder looked to the cowering mutants, his eyes flashing with rage. "You miserable morons! Look what you've done!"

"Uh, look what we're still doing," Rocksteady gulped. The flames were spreading; the entire block of abandoned buildings was going to be swallowed in a matter of moments.

Barney tensed. "You've boxed us in!" he burst out.

"There's a firefighter over there!" Bebop called. "I think he was one of our customers today." He rushed to where a fireman was lazily leaning against his fire truck. "Hey, why aren't you helpin' here?! Don't you see this big fire?!"

The fireman looked up and yawned. "It'll probably burn itself out in a few hours."

Bebop's jaw dropped. "But how much of the city is gonna be gone by then?"

A shrug. "Who knows. Who cares."

By now Rocksteady had caught up. He and Bebop exchanged a worried look. "Uh oh."

"You imbeciles!" Shredder screamed. "Put out the fire yourselves!"

Bebop blinked. "Oh yeah. Why didn't we think of that?"

Rocksteady reached for the hose. As he turned it on and the water gushed out, Barney ran out of the way to avoid Vincent getting waterlogged. Shredder tore off in the opposite direction to save himself . . . and perhaps the take-out.

"There's not enough!" Rocksteady exclaimed. "Open up that fire hydrant!"

Bebop went over and wrenched the top off. Even more water gushed out. Too much, as the force of it burst the hydrant altogether. Now the water became a dangerous geyser.

"I think maybe we overdid it," Bebop said, staring in horror as the water filled the street.

"Yeah . . . maybe we did," Rocksteady gulped.

"Now we've got a flood." Bebop looked around in desperation for something they could use to ride it out. "What are we gonna do now?"

"I know," said Rocksteady. He dropped the hose and simply stood there and screamed. _"HELP!"_

Bebop echoed the cry.

The fireman just yawned again. "Looks like another exciting New York winter."

xxxx

Baxter was just putting the finishing touches on his invention when he heard April's telephone ring across the hall. Wondering if it was important, he got up and brought the invention with him as he opened the door and listened to her side of the conversation.

"There was a fire burning down the street where the new stress clinic is . . . was?" April blinked.

Baxter's blood ran cold.

"And now there's a flood?" April leaned back. "Sounds exciting. I'm sure somebody is already out there covering it." And she hung up.

Baxter ran into the room. "What was that telephone call?!" he demanded.

April looked up at him. "Oh, nothing much. Just a fire and a flood down the street. I don't feel like covering it right now. Too stressful. Another story will come along. Maybe a nice interview at the botanical gardens."

"But my brother is out there!" Baxter exclaimed in anguish.

Vernon suddenly clattered down the hall and stopped in the doorway. "What's going on outside?!" he burst out, his eyes filled with horror. "The streets are filling up with water!"

"I have to go out there," Baxter told him. "Here." He shoved the invention at him.

Vernon fumbled but took it. "You finished it?!"

"Yes," Baxter said with impatience. "But now I don't have time to use it on them. You'll have to do it."

"What?! Me?! But I don't know how!" Vernon cried.

"Point it at the person you're trying to help and press this button," Baxter directed. Then he tore past, heading for the elevator as he pulled out his Turtle-Comm.

Vernon glowered helplessly after him. "That's just like everyone, to leave me holding the bag!" He turned back to April, who was humming to herself and filing her nails. Across the hall, Burne was cutting out a string of paper dolls. Irma was taking a nap.

"Hmph." Vernon looked down at the ray gun and then back at April. "You know, I wouldn't _have_ to use this," he mused to himself. "If she stays the way she is, I could be the star reporter." He scowled as Burne started humming goofily to himself. "Only what good would that do if my boss doesn't care? . . . I guess I could bring him back to normal and leave April as she is. . . ."

His shoulders slumped. "But Dr. Stockman actually entrusted me with something. For some reason, he must think I'll really follow through. Of course, Mr. Thompson entrusts me with things too . . . but this feels different somehow."

He sighed. "And can I really leave them like this? It's so disturbing."

Finally he held the gun up at April and pressed the button. She stiffened, the nail file clattering to her desk. "What the . . ." She spun around. "Vernon, what the heck are you doing?!"

"Well, if that's all the gratitude I get!" Vernon shot back. He turned, storming over to Irma. Again he pressed the button. She snapped awake and yelped, falling backwards in her chair to the floor.

April hurried into the hall. "Irma?! _Vernon?!_ "

"Wow," Irma said. "That was some crazy dream I just had. I dreamed that we all got zapped into braindead zombies. And . . . I think Matt cancelled our date. . . ." Her eyes filled with tears.

"That wasn't a dream," Vernon said stiffly.

"Even the date?" Irma quavered.

"Especially the date! You didn't care about it at all!" Vernon told her.

"No way!" Irma picked herself and the chair up. "How could I not care about something like that?!"

"Because you were a braindead zombie!" Vernon retorted.

April stared at him. "And you've been getting us back to normal?"

"Well . . ." Vernon looked embarrassed. "It's Dr. Stockman's invention, but he just threw it at me and ran off. Something to do with that fire and flood outside."

"Oh my gosh!" April ran back to her office and stared out the window. "That's awful! I've got to call the Turtles!"

"And I've got to get Burne Thompson back to his usual self." Vernon hurried into Burne's office.

April hurried after him. "Just a minute, Vernon!"

"What? Why?" Vernon frowned.

April smiled. "Watch." To Burne she said, "Oh Chief, I've been thinking. Don't you think it's about time I got a raise?"

"Huh?" Burne looked over at her. "Yeah, I guess maybe so. Take it up with Accounting."

"Thanks, Chief!" April said. "You won't regret it!"

Vernon stared at her. "Well, I never!"

"I'm just taking advantage of a rare opportunity to catch Burne in a good mood," April said, winking at him as she hastened back out.

"Hmph," grumped Vernon. In a moment the gun flashed and the paper doll chain dropped to the desk.

"What the . . . ?! What have I been wasting my time doing?!" Burne said in disbelief.

"It's a long story, Chief," Vernon sighed. "I'm afraid you won't believe it."

"The last thing I remember is going to that stress clinic," Burne mused. "I must've really zonked out."

"You could say that," Vernon agreed. "And you just gave April a raise."

 _"What?!"_ Burne bellowed.

"It'll be worth it once you see the story I'm bringing in tonight!" April called in.

"It'd better be!" Burne called out.

xxxx

"I don't believe this!" Raphael cried in utter frustration as he emerged from under the hood of the Turtle Van. "We couldn't leave because the Van wouldn't start. And now Donatello admits that he deliberately sabotaged the Van so we'd be stuck here?!"

"Hey, I gave you the distributor cap back," Donatello said from the Van. He put his feet up on the dashboard.

"Yeah, after I've been looking for it for hours!" Raphael fumed.

"Chill out, Bro," Michelangelo told him. "It's no big deal."

"Of course it isn't for you!" Raphael snapped. "Everything is just hunky-dory for you right now!"

"Raphael." Splinter laid a hand on the aggravated teen's shoulder. "You must calm yourself."

Raphael let out a shaking breath. "I know, Sensei. I know. I guess part of me wishes I'd been zapped with the rest of them. I haven't been able to do anything useful and trying to help them is getting _me_ stressed!"

"Why don't we all sing a song?" Leonardo suggested. "That should calm you down."

"Oh yeah, like I'd enjoy sitting around singing _It's a Small World_ or whatever sentimental sop Michelangelo's going to come up with next," Raphael snorted.

He came to attention when his Turtle-Comm went off. As soon as he opened it, April started talking. "Raphael, have you heard?!"

"Heard what?" Raphael sighed. "That Shredder and company really is operating a stress clinic?" But then he blinked in surprise. "Wait a minute. April, you're back to normal!"

"Yes, I am, thanks to Dr. Stockman and Vernon," April said.

"Vernon?" Raphael raised an eyebrow.

"Dr. Stockman built a reverse Relaxatron and gave it to Vernon to use on us," April explained. "He went running out because of a huge fire and flood at the stress clinic!"

"Worried about Barney, no doubt," Raphael growled. "But what the heck? How did something like that happen?"

"Who knows," April sighed. "I'm going out there right now. Are the other Turtles still out of it?"

Raphael looked to where Leonardo was leading Michelangelo and Donatello in a chorus of _Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer._ "You could say that."

"I'll bring Dr. Stockman's invention and we can use it on them when you come," April promised.

"Great. Thanks." Raphael hung up. "Okay, everybody in the Van and put your seatbelts on. We've gotta go see what caused Shredder's stress clinic to burn up and then flood out."

Splinter raised an eyebrow. "This sounds serious."

"Yeah. You could say that." Raphael got into the driver's seat. "Come on, everybody get your seatbelts on!"

"Lighten up, Dude," Michelangelo shot back. "We're getting there." He snapped the belt in place.

"Well, get there a little faster!" Raphael snapped. "We should have been back at the clinic hours ago! Now there's not even a clinic!"

"Big deal," Donatello yawned. "Whatever we needed there, I can invent. When I feel like it."

"And you'll probably never feel like it again if we don't get you fixed up with Baxter's invention," Raphael shot back.

At last everyone was settled and he was pealing out of the sewers. Things seemed perfectly normal until they started to approach the street that had been flooded out. Muttering to himself, Raphael converted the Turtle Van to its sea-faring state and they floated on.

"What in the heck happened here?" he grumped.

"I don't know, but it's sure relaxing," Leonardo smiled.

"Wake up, Fearless Leader," Raphael retorted. "New York is flooded and all you can talk about is how relaxing the trip is?"

"You worry too much about the little things, Raphael," Leonardo said. "Why don't you kick back and enjoy life?"

"I'll enjoy life when you're back to your usual, stuffy, leader-like self," Raphael retorted.

 _"Sixty-two bottles of beer,"_ sang Michelangelo.

"You're really going to go through all the verses, aren't you," Raphael said flatly.

"Well, sure," Michelangelo shrugged. "It's not like I've got anything better to do."

"Ohhh no, nothing like that at all," said Raphael.

"I am beginning to understand your frustration, Raphael," Splinter remarked. "I am not sure I care to go through the other sixty-one bottles."

"Why don't you join in, Sensei?" said Donatello.

"Thank you, no," said Splinter.

"Hey," Donatello said sleepily after a moment. "Isn't that Baxter?"

Raphael started and looked. It was indeed. Baxter was sailing down the street on a fallen billboard as a raft while using a random piece of wood as a paddle.

"Oh boy." Raphael swung the Van in his direction. "Need a lift?"

Baxter looked up in relief. "Yes!" He climbed inside when Raphael opened the side door. "I tried to call you from Channel 6, but there was no answer!"

Raphael scowled. "That must have been when I was looking high and low for the distributor cap."

"What?" Baxter blinked.

"Donatello here decided to play hide-and-go-seek with it," Raphael explained. "But nevermind that now."

Baxter turned his attention back to the current problem. "I can't understand what happened! The entire street is flooded!"

"Well, I think we're getting close to the problem." Raphael stared ahead to where Bebop, Rocksteady, and Barney were on top of a fire truck floating down the street. Barney was clutching his purple laptop and looking completely terrified. Bebop and Rocksteady were clutching each other and looking completely terrified.

"Mama!" Bebop wailed.

The fireman, sitting in the driver's seat of the truck, seemed completely unconcerned. He hummed a sailing song to himself as they drifted along.

Raphael sighed and pulled alongside. "Would you mind telling us how this happened?"

"Gee, I dunno," Bebop said. "We was just trying to stop the fire."

"Which never would have started if you hadn't been playing your video game," Barney said in aggravation.

"Raphael, you must bring them aboard," Splinter said. "The Van is equipped for this type of catastrophe. That fire truck is not."

"I know." Grudgingly, Raphael pressed the button that opened the sun roof. "Get in, all of you. And no funny business!" His eyes flashed. "You got the others, Barney, but you didn't get me. And you look pretty healthy right now. I wouldn't have any qualms about roughing you up if you don't play nice."

"I won't do anything." Barney carefully climbed to the Turtle Van and through the ceiling hatch. Bebop and Rocksteady leaped in after him. The fireman came in through a side door.

Baxter tried to relax. "Barney, are you alright?" he demanded. "And . . . ?" He gestured at the laptop, not wanting to speak of Vincent around Bebop and Rocksteady.

"We're fine," Barney said. He crossed to a corner and sat down on the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest.

Baxter watched him, his feelings conflicted. He wanted to go over and try to talk to him, but he didn't like the thought of doing so with so little privacy. And Raphael's sudden exclamation of horror sent all thoughts of conversation right out of his mind.

"Okay. Everybody brace yourselves. We're going over a waterfall!"

Bebop and Rocksteady wailed in horror.

Splinter immediately began a prayer.

"Really? How relaxing," Leonardo sighed in pleasure.

And Raphael snapped. "This isn't relaxing at all!" he screamed. "We're probably all going to die and you and Michelangelo and Donatello are all off in Ding-a-Ling Land thanks to Dr. Hugo Strange here! And he doesn't even have the Relaxatron gun to change you back!"

Barney didn't react. Instead, he glowered off at the opposite wall and didn't speak.

Baxter finally went over and sat down by him. "Barney . . ."

The Van went over the waterfall and plunged downward. Almost everyone screamed. Barney, although still silent, hugged the laptop for dear life.

Then it was over. They splashed at the bottom and floated on, unhurt.

Raphael slumped back. "Is everyone still alive?" he quavered.

"We are all alright, Raphael," Splinter assured him.

"Yeah. Like, can we do it again?" Michelangelo chirped.

"No. Way!" Raphael screamed.

"Guys!" April rushed along the dry curb up ahead. "Are you all okay?!"

"We're fine," Raphael called. "Relatively speaking."

"The water's finally receding into the storm drains," April told him. "And I've brought Dr. Stockman's reverse Relaxatron!"

"Great. We could have used that six hours ago!" Raphael exclaimed.

"It was just finished within the hour," Baxter grunted.

Raphael pressed the button to bring the wheels back to normal. Then he drove over to the curb and reached for the ray gun. "Okay," he said. "Now, this isn't going to hurt one little bit. In fact, it's sure going to make me feel good." He pointed it collectively at the other three Turtles and pressed the button. The light flashed.

"Oh wow." Leonardo sat up and blinked. "What happened? I feel so strange."

"Like, that's putting it mildly, Dude," said Michelangelo.

"The last thing I really remember is trying to attack Bebop and Rocksteady," Donatello exclaimed.

"Yeah, and then Barney blasted all of you with his Relaxatron and you've been zonked out ever since," Raphael informed them.

"Really? Far out," Michelangelo declared.

"Well, I'm glad you're all alright," April said. "In more ways than one. I got some incredible footage of the Turtle Van coming over that waterfall!"

"We went over a waterfall?!" Donatello gasped.

"Just a few minutes ago," said Raphael. "It was quite the experience, let me tell you."

"And now we're gettin' out of here," Bebop announced. He and Rocksteady ran for the back doors and burst out onto the street.

"How do you like that? Not even a Thank You," Raphael said with a roll of his eyes.

Bebop turned and looked back. "Are you comin', Barney?"

Barney looked over. "You go on ahead. I'm coming."

Raphael glared at him. "You'd better give us a list of all of your victims so we can change them back."

"I have it right here." Barney lifted the lid on the laptop and displayed the document on the screen.

"Just a minute. I'll come back and copy that file," Donatello said. He climbed over the seat and reached to hook the laptop up with the Turtle Van's computer.

"While you're doing that, I'll take care of this guy right here." Raphael used the ray gun on the fireman. He looked up, baffled.

"What on Earth am I doing here?"

"It's a long story," said Raphael. "A _really_ long story. And your fire truck is floating up there somewhere." He gestured upward.

The fireman stared. "I'd better go get it. Thank you!" He scrambled out of the Van.

Baxter watched him go and then looked back to his brother. "Barney . . ." He shook his head. "I don't even know what to say. Should I scream at you and scold you for what you've done? Or would that be completely pointless since you obviously feel terrible about it."

"I didn't want to do it," Barney said. "But that doesn't change that I did it."

"You are so right," Raphael interjected. "And for me, the fact that you did it is the only thing that counts."

"Then we are in agreement." Barney stood.

"Okay, I have the file copied," Donatello announced. He unhooked the laptop.

"We should really take you in right now," Raphael said. "Only I guess if we tried, you'd probably activate that stupid force field, wouldn't you?"

"Probably." Barney stepped out of the Van and into the street.

Baxter jumped down with him. "Barney . . . thank you for sparing me," he said quietly.

"I'd be killed if they knew I did that," Barney said. He looked away. "But I knew that if anyone could find a way to turn everyone back to normal, it would be you."

He wasn't about to admit that he just hadn't been able to bring himself to do that to his brother. But Baxter smiled sadly. He felt that he knew.

The laptop screen changed to Vincent's face. "Baxter, old pal! I had to see you before we left."

"I'm glad," said Baxter. "And I'm glad you're alright."

"Barney made sure to protect me," Vincent said.

"We'd better go," Barney said. "It will look suspicious." He paused. "Unless you really are going to take me in."

Baxter shook his head. "I want you to choose to come back, Barney," he said. "I don't want to force you."

"When will you learn, Brother?" Barney retorted. He sounded and looked sad and weary. "I can't come back."

Baxter reached out, gripping Barney's shoulder. "I won't believe that."

Barney started under the touch. He couldn't remember Baxter ever daring to touch him since their childhood. Ever since Barney had snapped and chased him around their yard, threatening him with serious harm, Baxter had been far too timid to ever try making physical contact. Now he had done it again, completely voluntarily, and didn't seem afraid.

For a long moment Barney stood, staring into Baxter's unwavering gaze. Part of him wanted to say _"Then you're a fool."_ But he didn't. He couldn't. Something about Baxter's determination pierced him through. To say anything against it now felt wrong. Contaminating, even. But he certainly didn't know how to say anything in favor of it. So he turned away, shaken.

"Goodbye, Baxter," Vincent called. "I'll keep trying to get through to him too."

Baxter smiled a bit. "I know you will. Goodbye, Vincent. Goodbye, Barney."

Barney managed a nod as he started off into the night.

"What a creep," Raphael muttered.

Baxter didn't bother to counter him. Raphael never would forgive Barney for what he had done to Michelangelo, and what had happened today certainly didn't help, either. Baxter couldn't blame him. But at the same time, Baxter knew Barney wasn't beyond hope. The more hopeless Barney felt, the more Baxter wanted to prove to him that yes, he could still be redeemed. He didn't know how and he didn't know when, but someday he would do it.

xxxx

Irma was still at her desk, disconsolate over the broken date. She gave a sad sigh as she stared into the computer screen.

"An hour ago, you couldn't get enough of that silly screen saver," Vernon commented as he came out of his office.

"An hour ago, I was a braindead zombie," Irma retorted. "I almost wish I was one right now so I wouldn't have to think about Matt dumping me!"

"Oh, you're making too much of it," Vernon objected. "He just cancelled one date. That doesn't mean he'll never want to see you again."

"It always starts with one cancelled date," Irma said. "Then there's another, and another. . . ." She sighed again. "You and April and Dr. Stockman are lucky. You don't think about things like romance. At least, not enough to be seriously bummed out by something like this."

"We have more important things to think about," Vernon said. "Our careers, for one thing."

"Yeah, but I'm not that kind of girl." Irma crossed her arms on the desk. "I mean, I don't want to give up working, but I'm not looking for any big advancements. I just want my Prince Charming. And why am I telling you this anyway?" she muttered.

"Why am I listening anyway?" Vernon muttered right back. Louder he said, "You're still living in a fairytale world, Irma. There's no such thing as a Prince Charming. Everyone has faults and flaws. If you put anyone on a pedestal, sooner or later they're going to come crashing down. Why do you think so many marriages fail these days? Most of the people involved were probably looking for perfect people and got disappointed by reality."

"You're probably right. And I never thought I'd say that about anything you said." Irma pushed away from the desk and stood. "Well, it's late and I can go home. I might as well; there's nothing else to do tonight."

Vernon tugged on his collar. "Actually, Irma, if you wanted, we could . . . go out for a soda or something. . . ."

"Really?" Irma looked up at him. "You're actually being nice. What do you want, Vernon?" She leaned on the desk with one hand.

"Nothing," Vernon insisted. "And that's the truth. I mean, it's not like you have enough influence around here even if I wanted to butter you up. . . ."

Irma folded her arms and smirked. "You might be surprised about that. But . . ." She softened. "Thanks, Vernon. I'll take you up on that. It might be an interesting change of pace."

They were heading for the elevators when the doors opened and April, the Turtles, Splinter, and Baxter came in. "Hello, you two," April greeted. "Is everything okay here?"

"Everything's fine, April," Irma told her. "Except Mr. Thompson has been roaring about the story you promised him."

"He'll love it," April smiled. "I'm going to go file it now." She looked back at the others with a mischievous gleam. "At least I got a raise out of this weird day."

"A raise?" Raphael repeated. "April, you bamboozled Burne when he was still Relaxatroned, didn't you?"

"Well . . . maybe." April winked. "Goodnight, boys. Irma." She waved and headed off down the hall.

"Hmph. And she says _I'm_ a schemer," Vernon remarked.

"Oh, come on, Vernon. You would have done it if you'd thought of it," Irma said.

"I could have done it after April did it, but I didn't," Vernon countered.

"By the way, Mr. Fenwick," Baxter interrupted. "You seem to have done a good job with getting these people back to normal. Thank you."

Embarrassment flickered in Vernon's eyes. "There was really nothing to it," he said. "Just pointing and clicking. Goodnight, everyone."

"Bye," Irma waved.

The remaining group stared as Vernon and Irma headed for the elevator. "Okay, I think I missed something," said Raphael. "Why are those two leaving together?"

"Probably no reason, Dude," Michelangelo said lazily. "They're just leaving at the same time."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Raphael said.

"Or perhaps not," Splinter spoke. "Vernon did become highly distraught in the other timeline when Irma was killed. Obviously there is some level of caring there. And I doubt it is one-sided."

"But that timeline didn't happen after we fixed it," Raphael frowned.

"And yet the memories haven't died," Donatello said.

"This is just getting too weird for me," Raphael declared. "I'm ready to go back to the Lair, eat some pizza, watch _Gorgonzola Goes to Mars_ . . ."

"In other words, you wanna get back to normal," Michelangelo supplied.

"That's right. And boy, am I glad you three are back," Raphael said. "It was getting exhausting being the logical Turtle. And the level-headed Turtle. And the . . ." He trailed off. "Well, I didn't have to imitate you, Michelangelo. I don't think I could have anyway."

"Aww, you probably could, Bud, if you really gave it a try," Michelangelo said.

"I think it is better for each Turtle to be himself, now that the Relaxatron is destroyed," Splinter said.

"Bodacious," Michelangelo said. "We are like, totally on the same page, Master Splinter." Then he sobered. "Hey, we're really sorry we gave you and Raphael such a hard time today."

Leonardo and Donatello nodded in agreement. "But you did really well handling it," Donatello said.

"And it was a challenge, let me tell you," Raphael declared. "Being Relaxatroned didn't sound so bad after today."

"It's really good that you weren't," Leonardo said. "Someone had to keep us in line."

Baxter smiled a bit and slowly walked away from them and over to the window. Vernon seemed to be making some progress. So did Barney. Both were going slowly, and especially for Barney it seemed to be two steps forward and one step back, but he wasn't going to give up on either of them.

The main thing that worried him was that Barney was discovering more and more that he was in over his head. He was disagreeing with some of Krang's plots. Eventually there would be a scheme that Barney would absolutely not agree with in any way, shape, or form and that he would feel was the last straw. What would happen to him then?

"Are you okay, Compadre?"

He looked up as Michelangelo came over. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I'm alright. It's just been another very long day."

"No kidding," said Michelangelo. "And I don't even remember a lot of it except like it was a dream."

"I wish it were," Baxter said dryly.

"You're probably thinking about Barney, huh?"

"Yes," Baxter sighed. "I worry about him more and more the longer this goes on." He turned to face the Turtle. "You and I know what Shredder and Krang are capable of, but Barney really didn't when he decided to join them. He didn't join out of naivete, as I did, but he still didn't understand what he was getting into. He tried to put on a show of being tough. He even tried telling himself that he wouldn't be bothered by anything he was told to do. But when it came down to it, he was very bothered. He knew he had made a horrible mistake. And he didn't know how to solve it. He stays because he feels trapped. But he is disagreeing with his employers more and realizing more what they're capable of. I still don't think he completely realizes. He isn't a murderer, Michelangelo. What is he going to do when Krang decides it's time for another of his horrific mass murder schemes?"

Michelangelo looked trapped himself. "I . . . I don't know," he stammered. "If he'd ask us for help getting out, we'd all pitch in, even Raphael. . . ."

"I know," Baxter said with a bittersweet smile. "I wish he would ask, but I don't know that he ever will. What I'm afraid of is that he will try to solve the problem by himself." His voice cracked. "And what will happen to him then, Michelangelo? What will happen to my brother then?"

Michelangelo had no answers. All he could do was to draw his arm around Baxter's shoulders and try offer what silent comfort and support he could. Baxter leaned into it, trying to draw hope from his friend. But really, neither of them knew what was going to happen. And with Barney's fate hanging in the balance, that seemed the most frightening thing of all.


End file.
